


Got to Have You All the Time (or, Katya's Short Walk)

by Kamylove



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Don't worry she'll be okay, Drag Queens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Pain, Pain Management, Separation, Work-Life Balance, katlaska, workaholics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamylove/pseuds/Kamylove
Summary: Katya's hurt. Alaska's far away. Anxiety, adorableness, and soul-searching ensue.





	Got to Have You All the Time (or, Katya's Short Walk)

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the same fictional universe as my story [They Don't Love You Like I Love You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087430), a few years later. The title is from a song by [Faye Richmonde](https://open.spotify.com/album/7lRXWpVdZi9fxgrIkQo3JE?si=Ma5uhtiMRIaOrW-8q7GWVg). 
> 
> Warnings for accidental injury, medical content, needles, and broken bones, though (I think) none of it is graphic. Also a couple mentions of addiction recovery. But really it's about Feelings.

Alaska's backstage, at an early show not far from her house, when she gets a call from an unexpected number.

"Trixie?" she says. "Or did my boyfriend lose his phone?"

"No, it's really me," Trixie says. "I mean, he doesn't have his phone, but he didn't lose it, we--never mind. How are you?"

"You sound tense," Alaska says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. And so is Katya, I swear. She's damaged. But she's fine!"

Alaska's brain fills up with images of Katya ODing in a filthy alley and drowning in vomit, because that's always the first thing that pops into her head. She knows it's not true, but her lizard brain is convinced.

She'd bet that Trixie has the same problem. 

"What happened?" she asks, forcing her voice to be steady.

"She'll be fine! But she kind of walked off the stage. Because we both know she's an idiot."

Alaska can't help it. She barks out a laugh and says, "Oh, no, poor thing!" It's very Katya to get too wrapped up in whatever she's doing to notice the edge of a cliff.

"I know, right?" Trixie says. "She was laughing at herself in the ambulance. But she broke some bones."

"Oh, God, which ones?" Alaska asks, hoping they're not bones that will keep her from working, or worse, force her to sit still and do nothing while they heal.

"Nothing she needs for sex."

Alaska shakes her head at how differently she and Trixie thought the same thought. 

"You might have to do a little extra work for a while, but-"

"I think we'll be okay," Alaska interrupts.

"Right. Sorry."

Across the dressing room, an old friend of Alaska's, a WeHo queen who should have been on Drag Race years ago, laughs loudly. Another slips out the door, letting in the sound of a Shea Coulee song.

"Are you at a show?" Trixie asks.

"I'm at -------. It's not a big deal. What did she break?"

Trixie hesitates, probably expecting Alaska to throw a fit. God knows Katya would if it was Alaska who was hurt, though with Katya at least 40% would be for comedic effect. Katya's actually very calm in a crisis. Alaska's not.

"Her arm, definitely," Trixie says. "Probably her knee, and maybe a finger or two."

Alaska gasps. "That's awful."

"Don't panic!" Trixie says. "I'm at the hospital with her, and they already took care of the arm, and now they're x-raying everything else. She wanted me to call you right away, but I didn't want to leave her until she had a distraction, sorry. You know how she is."

Alaska feels a twinge of irrational anger--it's been at least four hours. But she knows it's irrational. "No, it's fine," she says. "It's not like I can do anything to help from here."

"You're not freaking out?" Trixie asks tentatively.

"No, you gave it a great intro, thank you."

"No sympathy pains?"

"Not yet," Alaska says. "But there's still time."

Trixie chuckles. "I'll have her call you as soon as she can, okay? There's no signal on the first floor."

"Give her a kiss for me? With tongue?" Alaska asks, because that's what Katya always tells each of them, whenever they're going to cross paths without her.

"Consider it done," Trixie says.

"Alaska, five minutes," the club manager calls from the door as he sticks his head into the dressing room.

She's very glad she has work to do. 

<><><>

Trixie goes back inside and waits impatiently. There's no signal here, either, and she really needs to upload more books, or games, or something.

She'd lied a little bit to Alaska, and she tries not to feel bad about it. At least one out of the three of them needs to stay calm, and Alaska wins out simply by being a few thousand miles away.

She does feel bad about leaving the show, though. She never cancels shows. 

Also it will fuel rumors about her and Katya, which will be a pain in her ass, but will actually be better for Katya and Alaska, Queens of the Big Secret. 

There are pluses and minuses to everything.

She yawns. The adrenaline from the stage had been pumped up even more by seeing Katya fall off it and worrying about Alaska's reaction, and now it's wearing off. She wonders if there's a cafeteria that sells coffee in the middle of the night.

Before she can investigate, a tech wheels Katya and her IV cart out through the metal doors. She's groggy and miserable, but when she sees Trixie, she calls up a smile and tries to wipe the pain off her face. So Trixie calls up a smile, too.

"How'd it go?" Trixie asks as she stands up to join them.

"It hurt, but I made a new friend! This is Steve!"

Trixie holds out her hand to shake. "Hi, Steve!"

He grins and says hello.

"Did you call her?" Katya asks. "Did you? Did you?"

"She says I should give you a kiss with tongue."

"Oooh!" 

"Not happening," Trixie says.

"Some support system you are," Katya says. "Is she okay?"

"Of course she's okay. You're the one in the fucking hospital."

Katya pouts. Trixie can't tell if it's fake. "She's not worried about me?"

"Of course she's worried about you. But she's fine. She's at-"

"I know where she is," Katya cuts her off.

Right. Trixie knows better than to drop any potentially identifying information. Or she usually knows better. "Sorry," she says. "Does your shared calendar list when you're going to take a shit?"

"Of course it does," Katya says. "We're not animals."

The orderly--Steve--snorts and turns it into a cough. "Sorry," he says.

"Steve?" Katya asks. "Are we making you uncomfortable, Steve?"

This kid has no idea what he's gotten himself into, Trixie thinks.

"I'm gay, honey. I know who you are."

Or, he knows exactly what he's getting himself into, and how to use it to distract his patient. 

"Wow, I did not clock you at all," Trixie says, looking him up and down.

"It's the scrubs. You can't be fabulous in this shit." He gives them a triple snap.

"And you didn't even let on that you knew me?" Katya says. "I love you, Steve."

"So you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? They-friend?" Steve asks Katya.

"I do," Katya says coyly, biting her lip. Trixie rolls her eyes. 

"And it's not this one?" He jerks a thumb at Trixie and winks, making sure Trixie knows they're on the same side.

"Hell no," Trixie says. "And if this ends up on Reddit, I will come find you, Steve."

"Steve would never do that to us," Katya says. "Would you, Steve?"

"I go there for spoilers, not drama."

Katya's mouth opens in a delighted O. "Do you know who makes it to the finale this season?"

"Do you?" Steve asks.

"Oh, no," Katya says. "I don't know a single spoiler ever." She crosses her heart and holds up her free hand. "I swear to god."

It's not true, of course. Katya always knows more than she wants to, because Alaska knows more than _she_ wants to, from getting called back to appear in every damn season lately. 

"I don't believe you," Steve says. "Don't you all talk?"

"I only talk to the non-snaky ones," Katya says.

"Oh, my God," Trixie says with a startled laugh. Katya's replaced all of her old addictions with whatever high she gets from skirting the edge of outing herself, and it always catches Trixie by surprise.

"Steve?" Katya says. "My boy-slash-girl-slash-they friend is _really_ pretty." Even through the pain she's glowing, like she always does when she talks about Alaska.

"You want to tell me who it is?" Steve asks.

"Never," Katya says. "Sorry, Steve."

They're back in the emergency room now, and Steve wheels Katya into a curtained-off cubicle. A nurse follows them in and helps him get Katya onto the bed.

"Gotta leave you ladies here," Steve says.

Katya waves goodbye and says, "Thanks, Steve! It was nice to meet you!"

"Thank you," Trixie says.

"He was nice," Katya says. "Wasn't he nice?" she asks the nurse. 

"Very nice," the nurse says. Her name tag says Mariela, and she looks like she's at the end of an 18-hour shift but would otherwise be a friendly person. "How's your pain level?"

"Excruciating," Katya says brightly.

"You sure you don't want codeine?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I'm sure," Katya says. 

"We'll get you another nerve block, then," Nurse Mariela says. "Back in a few." And she walks away crisply.

"Steve was a sweetie," Katya says. "Boyfriend material?"

"He had a ring on. Are you sure they didn't give you the good stuff?"

"What? I don't check anymore. I am a spoken-for woman."

"You _never_ checked," Trixie says.

"I did! Most of the time." Katya holds out her good hand in a grabby motion. "Give me your phone."

Trixie hands it over. There's no use objecting.

Katya looks at it, unlocks it. (Trixie's password is another thing Katya somehow always knows.) She checks the settings, shakes it, holds it up in every direction. "No signal," she says finally. "Fucking hospital."

"Katya, she's _fine_."

"I know. I just want to talk to her. I _like_ her."

Trixie knows they always talk after shows. And before, and often during. Before going to bed, after waking up, during breakfast... It's cute and Trixie's over the moon for them, but it does sometimes make her own love life feel like child's play. A preschool romance, how cute, let's push each other off the swingset.

She's not jealous of Alaska. She's jealous of both of them for this ethereal freaking connection they have, and she can't even be mad about it. She likes them too much.

"God forbid you should go an hour without making googly eyes at each other," Trixie says.

"I could make googly eyes at you instead."

"Please don't. _Please_ don't."

Katya laughs maniacally, wheezes, and slaps her thigh. Trixie knows it's a mistake as it's happening, but there's no time to stop her.

"Ow! Fuck!" Katya says. "That fucking hurt! OW! Oh, my God!"

"I'm sorry," Trixie says, wincing.

After a few breaths to calm herself down, Katya says, "You should be." 

"I'd really like to hear you explain how any of this is my fault."

"Give me a minute, I'll come up with something."

Mariela returns with a tray of needles and vials. Katya distracts herself by playing with Trixie's phone in her free hand. She hates shots. She never even did intravenous meth, Trixie's been reliably informed more than once.

"Hey, you have a voicemail!" Katya says. "Oh, that's better already, thank you," she tells the nurse.

"I do?" Trixie says. She takes the phone back as Mariela finishes up and leaves. "But it didn't ring." 

It won't transcribe or play, either. She can just see that it's from Alaska.

"Is it her?" Katya asks excitedly.

"Yes, but-"

A young doctor interrupts by walking through the curtain, introducing herself, and asking Katya to confirm her name and birthdate.

Katya rattles it off, and turns immediately to Trixie. "Go call her?"

"I don't have anything to tell her yet," Trixie says.

"Caaalllll heeerrrrrrrr," Katya says.

"You may need to leave for privacy reasons," the doctor says.

"No, you can tell him anything," Katya says quickly. 

"Significant other?" 

"Chosen family," Katya says, and points at the phone. "_That's_ my extremely significant other. Caalllll herrrrrr!"

"Okay, I'm going!" Trixie says. 

As she leaves, she hears the doctor saying, "Let me just pull this over so we can take a look at your films."

She goes outside to call, walking away from the entrance to escape the smokers, and she doesn't bother listening to voicemail first.

Alaska answers before the first ring ends. "Trixie?"

"I told you not to panic," Trixie says.

"I'm not!" Alaska says, but her chuckle is rueful. "I was just walking home and I thought it was worth a try."

"Believe me, she's dying to talk to you, too."

"Aww," Alaska says, just the way Katya says it.

"There's a doctor with her now. She was about to give her the X-ray results."

"Oh! Go back in, go back in!"

Trixie has to laugh. "That sounded exactly like her. I'll let you know what they say, okay?" 

They say goodbye, and Trixie hurries back inside.

<><><>

Alaska's not panicking. She's not. But she is worried, and not used to being cut off from Katya; their relationship is founded on constant, instantaneous, and frequently sarcastic contact, and has been since before they even knew they were a couple.

It's not the codependent, drug-fueled separation anxiety she had with Sharon, no matter what Trixie might joke about. It's more that she wants to tell Katya everything, and having to keep it all in is making both her brain and her fingers itch. 

And lurking at the edge of her consciousness are things they should have discussed by now--in all the thousands of words they exchange every day--but haven't.

She only has one number to perform, and when she gets home, she has nothing to distract herself with but packing. Which is a lot less fun without Katya's commentary, in person or on facetime or even in texts.

She makes herself a sandwich and only eats a quarter of it, then stands in the middle of her drag room, lost and staring at the racks. Maybe she can just grab half a dozen dresses and stuff them in her luggage and hope for the best.

She pulls out her phone, knowing it's pointless.

She puts it away, then takes it out again. Then she goes to the bedroom and leaves the phone there, but goes back and gets it a few minutes later.

She hates the thought of Katya in pain. It's bad enough when Alaska's with her. (Katya had twisted her ankle in a fucking Target a few months ago and fully enjoyed Alaska's coddling.) It's torture to hear about it through an intermediary, even if the intermediary is Katya's best friend.

Damn. She shouldn't have come home. She should have stayed to cheer on the others, or dragged someone back here to talk it out. She's still in half drag, for fuck's sake.

She can't call her mom, or Katya's mom. It's too late. All her local friends will be either drunk, in bed, or on stage. She tries her brother, who would make her laugh if nothing else, but his phone is off, and she doesn't leave a voicemail.

"Dammit, Katya," she says to the room. "You could have at least waited until we were on the same damn stage."

That's a dumb thought to think. Sighing, she lays out her suitcases, and after staring at them for a while, she grabs a random armful of clothes, half a drawer of Capezios, and her three favorite wigs, and tosses it all on a chair. And then she stands there staring at the chair.

Maybe she can fix this mess once she hears from Katya. But she has no way of knowing when that will be, and her flight is in six hours.

"Stop it," she tells herself. She sits heavily on the floor and starts rolling up clothes and bagging shoes. She packs them, and unpacks some of them because she didn't do it right the first time, and unpacks some more because she can't make a single damn decision.

Finally, her phone beeps with a tone that isn't Katya's.

"Three broken fingers," the text says. "Dislocated kneecap."

Alaska recoils in sympathetic pain. Knee stuff is bad. Knee stuff could fuck up her splits permanently.

"And don't be mad," the next text says. There's no time to reply before the next one appears. "She had a compound fracture in her forearm but they took care of that and sewed it up before I even called you. She's fine!"

Horrified, Alaska starts typing before she finishes reading. "You didn't tell me it was a compound fracture!" 

"Sorry. I knew it would freak you out. She's FINE. They're keeping her overnight and I think there's a signal upstairs."

"She had a bone sticking out of her fucking skin!"

"But she doesn't anymore! Look, I don't get to lose it and you don't either. I can only handle one of us right now and that's KATYA."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Alaska replies quickly. "You've been great tonight and we're both lucky you're there."

There's no response, and Alaska can't blame her. Katya on a good day is A Lot, and while Alaska doesn't feel overwhelmed by her anymore, she understands why Trixie does. And Trixie doesn't need Alaska also being A Lot, on the other end of the phone line. 

She stands up, paces, glares at the suitcases, and makes an iffy life decision: she'll go to sleep now, calm the fuck down, and get up when Katya calls or when her alarm goes off, whichever comes first.

<><><>

Alaska's subconscious knows Katya's ringtone, and she grabs her phone before she's really awake. "Kati?"

"Aaaaaaal, I am a pitiful, broken shell of a biological woman."

The humor in Katya's voice improves Alaska's mood immediately. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

"Me too. God, I'm a dumbass."

"I'd like to disagree with that, but-"

"But you can't!" Katya says, laughing a much less energetic laugh than usual. "You can't! It's demonstrably true!"

"Well, you're _my_ dumbass, for what it's worth."

"Stop it. I'm emotionally fragile today. You're going to make me cry."

"I would never. How much does it hurt? Is Trixie still there?"

"Not too bad, and no. They have an early flight. Latrice brought me my phone and some clothes, and then they both had to go."

Alaska's heart drops, along with her momentarily heightened mood. "Fuck. I don't like you being alone in the hospital. When can you leave?"

"Later today, but I can't fly for at least three days, so I-"

"Three days?!"

"They said a week is better. Something about swelling, or an aneurysm, or-."

"An _aneurysm_?"

"No, no aneurysm! That's just what can happen if you fly too soon, and I'm not flying!"

Calm the fuck down, Alaska tells herself. "No. Okay. You're fine. Trixie kept telling me you were fine." 

"Stop," Katya says. "Breathe."

Alaska sighs. "I'm breathing. I'm just--can you even take a piss by yourself?"

"I'll figure it out. And I have no shame about pissing myself if necessary, as you well know. And there's room service!"

Alaska looks at the clock and tries to figure out the math of her flight--when's the latest she can leave, how long can she continue to put off packing, when does she have to be out of the shower--but her brain won't cooperate.

"I can hear you thinking," Katya says, "and no, you can't cancel South America. You have never cancelled a show in your life. I'll be fine!"

"You're not fine," Alaska snaps. "You're alone in a hospital room on the other side of the country with I don't even know how many broken bones, I lost count."

"I'll keep count. You don't have to. Al. Are you packed?"

"Half. What do they have you on? Is it working?"

"It's a Tylenol drip or something, and they keep giving me these shots that I swear are a fucking miracle. I made them write 'no opioids' on my chart."

"See?" Alaska says. "That's why you need someone with you! Doctors fuck that shit up all the time!"

"Al. Is your flight still at 7:55?"

"I--yes."

"Then you need to finish packing right now. Oh, no," she says to somebody else. "No eggs, please. Could you take them away? Thanks."

"They're feeding you food you don't even like!"

"No, they're not. I have toast and cornflakes and orange juice and I'm _fine_. Pack."

Sniffling, Alaska squeezes her eyes shut. They're burning. "Kataya."

"_Pack_." Katya crunches on something, and then yawns loudly.

"I'm keeping you awake," Alaska says.

"Fuck you, no you're not. The lack of research into non-opioid pain relief is keeping me awake." She stops for a second. "Are you crying?"

Alaska sniffles again. "It's so dumb. I'm tired and pathetic, and you're the one who's hurt."

"Yeah, but I've been entertaining everyone else to keep myself sane for hours, and I _know_ you've been ruminating instead."

Ruefully, Alaska says, "I ruminated so hard I had to go to sleep."

"I knew it! I have got you _pegged_, gurl." There's a brief pause. "Don't make a bottom joke. If you make a bottom joke, I'm breaking up with you."

"I won't make--oh, my God, you're still doing it!"

"Huh? Breaking up with you?"

"Entertaining _me_. You shouldn't have to worry about that!"

"Of course I should. It's in the job description. Now _pack_."

<><><>

They hang up when a gaggle of doctors and med students swarms into Katya's room, which frankly does nothing for Alaska's anxiety level. She goes to splash cold water on her face and finds she never even took off her makeup. So she showers as quickly as she can, throws on some clothes for her flight, and goes back to sigh over the open suitcases on the floor.

Nothing fits the way it usually does; her favorite lashes disappeared somewhere between the club and now; the sunscreen isn't where it's supposed to be; she has to check her phone to see how many shows she's doing, because she can't keep even basic information in her head anymore.

Frustrated, she throws a Louboutin at the wall and refuses to cry again.

If sleeping earlier was an iffy life decision, the one she's about to make is unquestionably awful.

No, she corrects herself. It's a bad decision professionally. But she's reached a point in her life, and in her career, where she's allowed to put her personal life first, once in a while. 

Anyone who hates her for it can just send her a million snake emojis again.

<><><>

Katya wakes with no concept of time. There's sunlight in the room, but she doesn't know which direction the room is facing. There are loud voices in the corridor, but that means nothing. Her stomach is empty. Her broken fingers are throbbing, but strangely, not her knee or her arm. And she smells...

"Al?" She looks around, and finds her boyfriend curled up in a stylish, upholstered chair that suggests she's going to pay through the nose for this room.

Alaska's got one foot under her, and the other leg thrown over the arm of the chair. She's hugging her old backpack to her chest, with her glasses practically off her face and her neck curled at what can't be a comfortable angle. There's no product in her hair--she doesn't leave the house without product in her hair--so a wisp of frizz is flopping down over her eyes.

Katya's never been so simultaneously overjoyed and enraged to see someone in her life.

A nurse bustles in, knocking perfunctorily on the door. "Mr. McCook, you're awake! Let's change out that drip and get you ready for dinner." She notices the sleeping form in the corner. "I heard your husband was here. He's as cute as you are!"

Katya doesn't react to the word husband--you do whatever you have to do to get into a hospital room--but it seems to wake Alaska up.

"Your wh--Kati?" She jerks up straight and looks right at Katya. She might still have a little purple shadow in the corner of one eye, but Katya can't be sure.

"Yes, darling," Katya says. "I'm here, and you're an idiot, and you have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Alaska startles when she sees the third person in the room. "Oh, hi," she says.

"Hi there. Are you Mr. McCook also?"

Katya laughs. Alaska, barely awake, takes it seriously. "No, I--I mean, we don't have--professionally it's just-"

"Honey, stop," Katya says. The nurse changes out the bag on Katya's drip in a few practiced movements, and Katya squints to see her name tag. "Tina here isn't going to kick you out. Hi, Tina. I'm Brian, and that's Justin, and he's an idiot who shouldn't be here."

"Fuck work," Alaska says. She already looks less anxious than she sounded on the phone, and she starts stretching her long neck, to wake up. Katya knows which muscles Alaska will work through first, second, third, knows exactly where Alaska will be sore from sleeping like that, and she smiles.

"He's also a workaholic suffering from temporary insanity," Katya adds.

"Oh, no, I agree with him," Tina says as she checks Katya's pulse. "Family comes first, right? There are no meds in that bag. The doctor wants to switch you over to oral administration before we let you go. How's the pain?"

"It's actually okay. Did you give me another injection while I was asleep?"

"An injection of _what_?" Alaska asks.

"I told you about the miracle shots," Katya calmly reminds her.

"Yes, we did," Tina says, and explains what they use to numb the nerves, which Katya hadn't known was possible until they gave her the first one. "Are you hungry, Brian?"

"I could eat a horse," Katya says. Tina leaves with a smile, and Alaska bursts out in a laugh at the secret innuendo.

"You slut," Alaska says lightly. "You won her over fast."

"Hearts and minds, one fracture at a time. Remind me to tell you about Gay Steve. And Luis. And Marie Adeline. Her son's a nurse here, too! And Kang, she's my doctor."

"Everybody loves you." Alaska finally stands up and approaches the bed.

"God knows why, but I'm used to it. Hi."

"Hi." She leans down to kiss Katya on the forehead.

"That is not the kiss I was expecting."

Alaska winces, and runs her tongue over her front teeth. "I don't think I've seen a toothbrush in like a day, I forgot to bring it. You don't want-"

"I do," Katya says, and puckers up. Alaska gives her a little peck. "Ew, that was disgusting," Katya complains.

"I warned you. The pain's really okay? You looked like you were sound asleep."

"I think I was. They gave me an SSRI I used to take a long time ago. Knocked me right out," Katya says. "Now, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm an idiot, like you said."

"Also demonstrably true."

"And what your new friend said. Family comes first."

Katya's heart feels like it could jump out of her chest. She reaches for Alaska's hand. "That is the corniest thing I have ever heard you say, and I'm never going to let you forget it."

Alaska gives her that soft, crooked smile Katya loves, and squeezes her fingers twice, like a heartbeat.

Then she deflects with a smirk. "You know," she says, "between Trixie leaving the show with you, and me cancelling six shows-"

"_Six_? That's the whole tour!"

"-Reddit's going to have plenty of things to talk about. I'll reschedule, it'll be okay. I'll make it okay."

She's telling herself that, too, not just Katya. Katya rubs the back of Alaska's hand with her thumb, and lets the subject go.

"Let's make up a long, complex love triangle narrative," Katya says, "where you're the sad but sublimely gorgeous third wheel, and I'm married to a prick who can't get it up, and I'm the quirky, unnaturally pretty girl you come to blows over." She sighs happily. "It'll be beautiful. It'll be heart wrenching. I'll cry. And then I'll dump both of you for Willam."

Alaska cracks up, and Katya joins her, gratefully. 

"Are you sure they didn't give you the good stuff?" Alaska asks.

"That's what Trixie said!"

"Because at your highest level of functioning-"

"-I come off high as a kite. The bird, not the toy."

"There's a bird called a kite?"

"I told you you were an idiot. Or maybe it's like a stingray? I'm an idiot, too."

"I couldn't leave you here by yourself," Alaska says, scrunching up her nose. "Somebody's got to keep you alive _and_ entertained." She thinks about that, and adds, "Maybe the next time you do a faceplant off a stage I can be cold and detached."

"Maybe next time you'll be with me."

"One can only hope," Alaska says. Then she winces again. "Oh, fuck, I need to send flowers to Trixie. Don't let me forget."

"Why? She said you were an absolute gentleman. A credit to our relationship. A credit to the species homo." 

"She did not say that, and you are a lying liar."

"She almost did!" What Trixie actually said was that Alaska was a grown-up and could handle herself, but Katya could read between the lines.

"I _was_ a credit to the species homo," Alaska says, "right up until I turned into a scared little goblin. I'll tell you about it later. Did they say when you can leave?"

"They said they'd check on me before dinner and decide for sure."

Alaska ostentatiously checks her phone. "It's 4:30."

"Be nice," Katya says. "My mom's a nurse. We like nurses."

"I know your mom's a nurse, shut up. Do you need me to do anything? Does the hotel know you're extending?"

"Yes, they know." Katya thinks for a minute. "I'm sure there's something practical you could be taking care of, but I don't care. Just squeeze in here, we can watch Golden Girls and you can tell me how much you love me."

She tries to inch away to make room on the bed, but pain stabs her in at least five different places. "Ow, fuck!"

"Let me help you, for fuck's sake!"

Alaska was right. Katya would have starved or died of filth alone in a hotel room. She grumbles about moving anyway.

Eventually they get Katya settled and the pain back down, and Alaska sits up against the headboard next to her. "Tina's going to kill me," Alaska says, but Katya can feel her starting to relax.

"Oh, the _irony_. Now shhh, I've never seen this one," Katya says. Alaska's on her intact side, her hips by Katya's head and her legs stretched out along Katya's body. Katya lets the warmth seep under her skin.

Alaska quotes along happily with the first episode, but then goes quiet for the second. Halfway through, she asks, "Do we know a good gay lawyer?"

"Mmm," Katya says. "Hospital visitations."

"Power of attorney."

"Healthcare proxy. All that stuff." She tilts her head back to see Alaska's face. "Did they give you a hard time?"

"No, but I wouldn't have been surprised."

"Not the most queer-friendly state."

"No. And the amount we travel..."

Katya nods. "Somebody will, eventually. You up for this?"

Alaska scritches Katya's scalp, and Katya sighs in appreciation. "I'm in for good. You?"

Katya nods. "Till death. And then I'll be haunting you, and we'll have all the kinky ghost sex."

"Well, if you're going to haunt me anyway," Alaska says, slow and deadpan, "it's only fair that I get to decide when to pull the damn plug."

Katya laughs until she wheezes, and Alaska resists for a bit before joining in.

"Luckily," Alaska says once they've calmed down, "I've got nothing to do for the next week but help you pee, and search for lawyers on the internet."

"Not nothing. You'll also be giving me a lot of head."

"That goes without saying."

They share a suggestive smile and go back to watching TV. Alaska starts quoting the dialogue again as the last bit of tension leaches out of her body, and Katya virtually melts into her side. One scene later, she gets bored and throws a possessive arm over Alaska's leg, tapping a restless beat on the inside of her knee. 

They've talked about marriage, and decided it's too heteronormative for them. But this, the legal shit. The legal shit matters. It's only luck, and the privilege of having supportive families unlike so many couples they've known, that's allowed them to ignore the odds for so long. 

Nurse Tina returns to find Alaska happily voice acting all the roles in her favorite show, and Katya happily tapping out a song that will make Alaska laugh when she recognizes it.

"I should make you move," Tina says. She's got a cup of pills in one hand, and a cup of water in the other. "But you two are just too cute. I guess gay marriage isn't so bad, after all!"

Katya tilts her head back again. "Your point." But she smiles at Tina anyway. 

Alaska smiles, too. "Exactly," she says, squirming to get her phone out of her pocket. "Never mind tomorrow. I'm going to start that search right now."


End file.
